


A Long Night and the Sweet Sting of it

by meltheknee



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Dissociation, For Vanilla, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Spoilers, Tenderness, The tenderness and comfort comes in the second chapter, They're just there for fun - tho tbh its just sad, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unreliable Narrator, music references, suicidal idealization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28641216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meltheknee/pseuds/meltheknee
Summary: Never did Goro expect that a simple comment would throw him off the rails for the day. Never did he anticipate his rivals kindness would be so. . .tender. But here he is, desperate for warmth while his addled brain permits it.AKA: After a passive comment about his mother is said, Goro's already turbulent mental state comes crashing down on him. It culminates in a drunken night in which he wishes for nothing more than things as annoying as'emotions'to stop racking his mind. But lo and behold, with a rival at his door, Goro gives in to his snuffed desperation for care.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 6
Kudos: 115





	1. The Regret of a Drink

It had been an arduous day. 

Goro had smiled and waved and laughed and killed.

It had been tiring. 

He had gone to the Palace and followed the Thieves; waited patiently as they battled and left with hearts full hope. As they had left, Goro did his deed of despair with a cold gaze - bullet encased in the thought of _“you had it coming.”_

Out of the Palace, he resisted the urge to drag his feet as he headed toward the subway. 

He kept to himself as his thoughts stung his mind. This heightened as his dull eyes caught a glimpse of plaid pants - a glimpse of Shujin’s loudest students. 

They were happy, happy with a gleam of premature relief to them. Goro was sure their smiles would drop during a morbid broadcast to come.

His lips were pressed together as he watched then casually walk by.

The fluff of Haru’s hair stumbled across his gaze as his heart faltered. He tensed his jaw as his body paused for relief from his clenched heart. Grip like a vice, his attaché case felt all too heavy.

They were painfully unaware.

So elated they were, imagining how all those damaged by Okumara would benefit from the change of heart. Goro shifted his weight from foot to foot. It would be a shame, he thought, if they witnessed this _“change of heart”._

Goro squinted and let his thoughts run cold.

There was no ounce of remorse that he felt for the man. But for her, for his daughter, it was up in the air. He hadn’t really spoken to her before, but the grateful smile she wore led Goro to a realization. A realization that he and her shared the same desire.

_That_ \- that sparked the slightest peak of sympathy within him.

That _damn_ plea for a certain paternal presence to recognize them - it was beyond toxic. He hoped she’d learn how dastardly that wish was, how fleeting it was to wish for praise from someone who would fail to even notice your death.

He bit the inside of his cheek, emotions were nothing but an annoyance. He didn’t like others feeling this way toward him, let alone feeling it for others. Goro swallowed in an attempt to quench his dry throat. He imagined a world where he'd taken his own advice. Lips between his teeth, he fought off the thought like a rabid animal.

Ann lept in front of the group, walking backwards with bright eyes and the hope to gain the attention of the others. Ryuji laughed at whatever she had said and looked up toward the sky with a joyful gaze. 

Goro detested how painfully carefree they were. He saw how they struggled through the fight, how devoid of energy they had been as they stole the treasure. But now? Now they were jovial at another finished Palace.

He lulled his head back, searing his eyes into a sun left lingering. It had been done in response to a lackluster desire to feel as free as them; one that should’ve been snuffed out. Goro squinted, continuing to berate himself for such a childish notion.

His tured gaze met the sight of Yusuke seemingly lost to some ramblings about something or other, Makoto poked his arm and pulled him back to reality while Haru picked up the conversation. Meanwhile, Futaba spouted out some joke, eliciting a low laugh from the ever quiet Akira. 

Goro’s gaze was transfixed on Akira. The laugh fell deaf on his ears, given their distance, but it still found a way to bounce about his head, ringing across his thoughts.

Akira had a hand entangled in his fringe, his glasses glistening against the lingering sunlight. He patted Futaba atop her head, her eyes lit up in response to what must have been words of praise. 

Goro could only imagine how elated she felt receiving news of a job well done from her leader. He sighed to himself and internally shook his head.

He took his phone out of his pocket to check the time. It was only five in the afternoon, his day was relatively free, but the palace left him mentally exhausted. He may have not done much, but his thoughts had already run him ragged. 

Although, after seeing the Thieves be so. . . _happy_. . . Goro wished for the energy to saunter into Mementos and rip another shadow apart. Emotions were something he consistently found hard to decipher. The lust of battle did good to stifle them all - so he grew a bit of a dependency as it being an outlet. He decided that it wasn’t worth it for the day.

But lord could he tell how the jealousy was searing _hot._

Raising his gaze, Goro’s eyes stumbled upon Morgana’s. They were both relatively shocked by each other's presence. Morgana appeared to have said something. Lo and behold, Akira turned to look at Goro. His eyes were moderately wide, eyebrows slightly raised. He brought a hand up for a shy wave, Goro did so in return with an awkward half grin. 

Goro hadn't been planning on approaching them, his brain let out warning flares. They were unaware of what he had done just moments ago, and Goro strongly preferred it if it stayed that way. 

He trusted in his acting skills, but there was always room for error.

Usually, he felt a tad apprehensive to approach Akira while he was gathered with the Phantom Thieves. He tended to feel needlessly anxious whenever around them all; especially with how much they had grown in size. 

The Akira that Goro had become accustomed to talking with was much different than the Akira gathered with his teammates. 

One was all too knowing, always at the ready to pick Goro apart, leaving him intrigued with the whisper of _“rival”_. The other was quiet, too silent in his thoughts, too weary of how others perceived him. Like Goro was one to talk, but this Akira peeved him off. 

He’d come to learn of the mask that was Akira’s glasses, and it made Goro all the more ravaged with the idea of a free Akira.

He was about to leave the interaction to that one singular wave, his torso already turned to depart. But, Ryuji’s curious gaze turned leer left him far too compelled. He decided on a self imposed excuse to interact with them: to use this opportunity to try and decipher their thoughts. They were far from a truly secretive bunch and Goro was sure he could get _something_ to slip.

Though deep down, he knew why he actually wanted to go over. 

Goro let in a deep breath, agitated by the gaze. It was definitely a poorly thought idea, but damn if Goro would let Ryuji sass him with his stare without throwing in a word or two. He braced himself before moving toward them.

The walk over felt too long - too awkward. He straightened his shoulders and brought a hand to the back of his neck, self conscious of what he knew was perfect posture.

Makoto gave him a hesitant stare, pushing some hair behind her right ear. The others also seemed to falter at him approaching, though it was Ann to take the initiative of breaking the ice, “Ah, Akechi! We didn’t expect to see you around here!” Her eyes were closed, mouth pulled into a smile and her arms behind her back. The perfect illusion of inconspicuity - presuming Goro was an idiot.

“Hello Akechi, It’s been a minute since we’ve ran into you,” Makoto continued to stare at Goro, voice level, “You seem to be doing well.”

“Relatively so, yes, thank you. But you are right, it has been a while hasn’t it?” With a kind smile, Goro looked at all the thieves. They had relaxed a little, though still maintained their guard. He forcefully let the hand wrapped around the handle of his attaché case relax. He locked eyes with Akira and continued with a tight lipped grin, “I hope you all have been well yourselves; you lot seem busy as ever - all the way out here.”

Yusuke shifted his weight and crossed his arms, “I believe we’ve been good.” Goro matched his stare while Ryuji picked up the conversation, “Yeah, things have been chill - why you askin’?”

The city air had felt stiff against Goro’s rib cage as he grinned emptily at Ryuji. It was a struggle for him to not let out a dry, _“Are you serious?”_ at him.

Goro’s patented detective grin shook with mild annoyance at the others lackluster suspicion, “Well I was just returning the sentiment, no need for hostility.” Ryuji squinted at Goro as his grin grew. At the moment, he couldn’t see any harm in letting a little pettiness out.

“Eh? C’mon what hostility? I was asking a _question_ \- and not a hard one at that,” Ryuji grumbled with dejection, shoving his hands in his pockets.

_Oh_. Oh how Goro could feel himself twitch for a harsh comeback. 

Ryuji bore no true hostility, outside of some lackluster competition, but the sheer _stupidity_ of the situation had Goro reeling for something to keep him grounded.

“Settle down boys!” Besides Haru, Futaba stepped between them with her hands up in a shrug, “You two ramped up the tension too high.”

She cracked a grin before she looked up to Ryuji, “Also, Ryuji,” he looked down toward her, curiosity dotting his features. She chuckled before continuing, “I didn’t know you were such an enemy of conversation.”

He spluttered, stammering around his words, “Wha - am not?! I was curious about why he’d care,” he pointed a thumb at Goro, “I felt like he was being _too_ detective-y, you know?”

Haru giggled fondly and entwined her fingers in front of her, “I guess it was an honest mistake.” She met Goro’s eyes before he looked away, uncomfortable by the kindness her gaze carried, “ I hope you know the rudeness was baseless - I don’t know if Ryuji is truly capable of any ill-intent. He’s. . . Very wholesome.”

The Thieves laughed lightly in agreement while Ryuji crossed his arms, blushing and grumbling some form of denial.

Goro prepared to speak, but faltered as Ryuji sighed in defeat before unknowingly speaking over Goro.

“Ugh, it’s not my fault his mom never taught him to not be so-” Ryuji paused as Akira pulled at his sleeve, Akira gave him a distressed stare and said something to him. Ryuji turned back with wide eyes and a dropped mouth.

Goro wasn’t sure what Akira had said, he found that his mind had gone off the rails. He felt his mouth go dry, he hadn’t realized his lips were parted. 

Shoulders stiff, his vision became unfocused. The corners of his mouth were pulled upwards - puppeteer by the illusion of put together teen. _Damn this weakness_ , was all he thought.

His voice came out all too monotone, “Mm, yes, a shame indeed.”

“Akechi. . .” Ann was beside him now, eyes crinkled in remorse. Goro restrained a grimace at his disgust for the care she let out. He was _perfectly fine_ , just startled.

“There's no need to fret,” Goro closed his eyes and waved a hand passively. He dreaded the thought of having to eventually open his eyes again. He could imagine the stares - the pity. His chest festered with rage, he could feel his face grow warm.

He needed to leave.

Someone was speaking - something trivial, he was sure. He couldn’t care less. “Forgive me - but I have somewhere to be,” he opened his eyes, Ryuji rubbed a hand behind his neck while Goro also spotted Futaba hugging herself between a concerned Haru and Makoto. 

He could read an apology off Ryuji’s lips. But as with every other sound, the words melded into white noise as his own voice echoed through his skull, “I’ve got plenty of work to do, I wish you all well.”

Goro waved a pleasant goodbye.

There was some hodgepodge of, _“See you around,”_ and, _“It’s okay if you’re hurt,”_ being said behind him. All it elicited in response was a quiet and rueful huff of air.

Continuing towards the train station, Goro’s body stayed taunt. His desire to unwind - to let loose - was strong, yet he found himself too sluggish to make it to Mementos to do so. Rolling his shoulders, he continued on, making it onto the train with little trouble.

The ricks and rocks of the subway car lulled Goro’s heart to a steadier pace - when did it begin to race? He didn’t care to dwell on it. He tried to focus on keeping his body upright, letting his left hand grip the overhead rail stiffly. 

His thoughts inevitably trailed back to what Ryuji said, he hadn’t expected his mom to come up in conversation. It was a strange feeling, to be reminded of. . . _that_ aspect of his life. He didn’t demonize her because of it though, he never had and wouldn’t dare the thought. Things happen, he accepted that long ago. He didn’t _necessarily_ want to forget her, he just wanted to be indifferent. Wished that he couldn't feel his walls come crashing down at a simple passing mention of his mother.

The irony of the situation was not lost to him, considering what he had just done. He stifled a deranged chuckle.

The train wasn’t too crowded where he stood, but he still found it tough to breathe. He took a moment to focus on the movement of his chest, determined not to be too loud.

His throat felt raw - sore from the strain of unreleased displeasure. His detest for the pity of before had dwindled to a simmer - one that still made his stomach flip. Quick to rage and stubborn to settle, he’d always been like this.

A voice crackled through the subway speakers, Goro tried to decipher it, but he found that he _still_ couldn’t put the words together. He could feel the shape of them, but they went straight through his head - he wasn’t even positive as to where he was. The train ceased its movement and people shifted around him, he recalled being two stops away from his apartment. There was still time.

Goro brought a tentative hand from the pole above down to his face, tempted to rub his eyes, but the recollection of his make-up made him think better of it.

The speakers chimed in again, then were followed by the train lurching forward. He snapped his left hand back up, determined not to fall - it was too early to let that happen.

The ring of the subway tracks inched his mind towards a headache. While passerby voices dwindled to an echoey haze and his chest steadily grew heavier.

Both of his hands, the one keeping him steady and the one carrying his case, tightened while he kept his face straight with practiced blankness. He was weak. Pathetic. _Useless_ for acting this way. It was never meant to stab him, and if anything, he was the one who decided to go and stir something up for the heck of it.

He was aware that he was too petty for his own good.

The train stopped again, Goro hadn’t even noticed the message about it, but nevertheless he took a deep breath and moved off the train. A part of him was mildly surprised that he actually made it to the right stop.

He hadn’t been on the train for too long, but the air had definitely grown colder. Goro stifled a shudder and tried to let his body relax amongst the cold - it wasn’t a long walk until he reached his apartment.

The street was steadily growing dim, the sunset still had a couple hours to go, but clouds had set in. Goro flexed his free hand in hopes of halting the stiffness brought on by the cold wind.

His mind grew painfully blank.

The walk was monotonous, and Goro easily zoned out, keeping his mind trained on traffic lights and taking the correct turns. Next thing he knew, he was in front of his apartment. His gaze followed the length of the blandly modern building before he stepped inside.

He bore a slight smile and waved at the receptionist as he headed for the elevator.

Goro generally preferred taking the stairs, but he was much too exhausted to do so. He wished for his body to feel as light as it did in the Metaverse.

The elevator was empty, he felt a tad less claustrophobic in there than the subway. He rested his head against the wall after pressing the button for the sixth floor. He then let his eyes drop and he focused on the hum of the elevator.

At the sound of a _‘ding’_ he made it safely to his apartment floor. It was a short walk to his room, and with a stiff hand he unlocked his door.

In his apartment, Goro placed his keys on a nearby shelf before taking off his shoes and stepping inside. He paused before recalling that he hadn’t eaten yet and moved toward his kitchen - entertaining the possibility of quenching his gnawing stomach. It was barren - he never remembered to fill it. Inside a cupboard, beside some random snack, Goro’s tired gaze eyed a bottle of vodka. 

It wasn’t a particularly nice brand and it had been sitting there for a while. He had been given it at a “meeting”, one more akin to a stuck-up party, by someone from the television studio. The man certainly was rich, Goro has noticed him drinking the nice stuff at some point. But there was a sick glint to his eyes as he handed Goro the gift-wrapped bottle. It showed off his deranged desire to see a teen idol suffer around the harsh sting of a cheap drink.

He wasn’t necessarily fond of drinking. He’d done so before, had been expected to partake in it during some parties. But never was he eager to let his inhibitions loose where he would inevitably be taken advantage of. 

Although on particularly tiring days, strangled by the cold walls of his apartment, he’d find himself compelled to drink. He found comfort in the lack of having any truly coherent thoughts; though _only_ when it was brought upon by no one other than himself. 

Had someone else pressured him into it, he’d surely bite their hand off.

Goro shuddered, recalling his first inexperienced time. It was a terrible, terrible, evening.

He slapped his face, snapping out of another daze.

The sting his hand brought to his cheek reminded him of the guilty pleasure he had grown for the drink that tasted how a permanent marker smelt. After a while, he’d found that there was a charming sweetness to it.

“You’re an idiot,” Goro spat aloud to himself. Tired voice loud amongst his cold flat, it was nice to freely speak without pitching his voice up as he regularly did for the public.

His hand reached up, close but not touching the bottle. His eyes set into a wide glare - steaming hatred seeping deep into the logo. He’d seen it laying around his childhood home - had seen it in the thin hands of his mother.

His fingers twitched, frown strong.

He pulled the bottle out of the cupboard and placed it on his kitchen counter, “You’re an _idiot_ ,” he repeated.

Next to his sink was a couple freshly washed glasses, clear and pristine with the absent minded effort Goro put into washing dishes. He closed the cupboard and grabbed one. With his free hand, he picked up the alcohol and walked to his living room.

Half way, he kept himself from tripping over his feet as his phone rang and heart leapt. He hurried to place his things on the coffee table before answering his cell.

It was nothing more than a telemarketer. He let his tone fall flat as he requested to be taken off their list - it would be useless of course, but worth a shot.

He was annoyed at how fast his heart rate had climbed - it wasn’t even Shido’s ringtone - but the panic had still set in. Oh how his mighty barriers had crumbled that day. 

Goro hissed as he placed the phone on his kitchen counter after setting it to vibrate. He’d already updated Shido on Okumura the moment he left the Palace, he knew he wouldn’t have to deal with Shido for a day or two at least.

He turned back to look at his living room, just as everything else, it was simple. Attachments were risky, Goro preferred to have as little emotional attachment to the passing world as he could.

Goro attempted to pick at his nails and grew annoyed at the leather encasing them. He began to feel all too wound up under his mask. He turned to enter his bathroom and headed straight for his make-up remover. Too tired to partake in his whole routine, he decided to allow a cheat day. 

He took off his gloves and didn’t dare lock eyes with himself as he peeled his second face away.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, the floral scent of his make-up remover was calming. He threw away the cotton pad he had used before giving his face a quick rinse; as well as brushing his teeth after dabbing his face dry.

Purely out of habit, he looked up at the mirror for a moment. Imperfections and all, Goro Akechi looked blankly back at his reflection. He _loathed_ the person he saw.

“Speak for yourself - why don’t you,” he couldn’t help responding to himself. Goro found comfort in speaking aloud when particularly drained from the day. It helped him get his thoughts together, most of the time, but more often than not it was a funnel for self-hatred.

Goro scowled as strongly as he could muster the strength to do so and kept eye contact with himself as he left the bathroom backwards.

Pulling at his tie, Goro took it off along with his blazer as he walked to his bedroom and threw them on the floor.

Dresser drawers opened, he pulled out a T-shirt and plaid pajama pants. He anticipated a long night and decided that it would be for the best if he undressed out of his uniform. Now in the comfort of a well worn shirt, he hunched over and crossed his arms. With a breath in and out, he walked slowly toward his leather couch. He sat down and stared at the bottle.

He wasn’t doing this because of Ryuji’s comment. No, it was the culmination of many thoughts. Thoughts of the first broadcasted mental shutdown to come, his ever present homework, Sae’s growing stresses she’d push onto him, remembrance of the upcoming election, and, yes, thoughts of the approaching anniversary of his mothers death.

On, and on, and on, things had been piling on top of Goro.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth and crouched over his legs, placing his head into his knees. He reached forward for the glass and placed its cool shape to his forehead. 

After a pause, he raised his torso and leaned into his arms that now rested on his knees. He placed the cup back onto the coffee table and uncapped the vodka. He watched a shot worth of the liquid fall into the glass with careful precision.

His eyes softened as he grabbed the cup, leaned back into his sofa, and shot it back.

It _burned_ his senses, but he focused on the sweet tint to keep himself sane. There was still a bit left in his glass, but that last sip proved to not be enough to move swiftly down his throat. He hacked a cough before getting up to fill the glass with water. Pushing a hand into his eyes, he drank the water to stifle his coughing.

Cup placed down, Goro leaned against his counters, rapping his fingers against the surface. He sighed and looked at the bottle in the living room. It was taunting him - it knew how Goro was borderline desperate for its release.

From his core and up to his face, his body began to flush with the drinks' oncoming effects. 

Pushing away from the counter and meandering back to his living room, he snatched the bottle, raised it to his face and leered at it. Crass and low, Goro swore a stiff: “Fuck you,” at it before taking a swig. He then ripped the bottle from his lips and stifled a cough.

The drink tore apart his insides, soul barren yet content.

Sitting on the edge of his couch, legs crossed and shoulders slack, Goro began to feel uneased by the silence of his apartment. Uncrossing and crossing his legs, Goro reached forward for his TV’s remote. With a quick look to the remote and a slightly fumbled click to the power button, the TV lit up the dim room. He then maneuvered through the menus until he reached his music app and put on a playlist. It wasn’t loud, but it helped rid him of the ring of silence.

He peeked down at the bottle in his hands, it felt too harsh - too crude - to continue drinking straight from the bottle while mostly sober. So he stood, let the blood rush settle, and went to retrieve the glass from the kitchen.

He poured his next drink in the kitchen, humming along to his music. Drink poured, he stared at it, “Fall on your tongue like pixie dust,” and drank. He sighed to the sweet sting, “Just think happy thoughts and you’ll fly high.”

Shaking his head, he chuckled before slamming his foot into the lower cupboards, smiling wearily at the numbed feeling. He then brought both the cup and bottle back to their place on the coffee table.

Yet again on the couch, he slouched with his hands to his head. He was inching closer to a blissfully hazy mind. Reminders of the past day still gripped his chest - but he was so _close_ to no longer having the sobriety to spare it a worry.

“I couldn’t care less what you - you _Thieves_ have to say.” He rubbed his eyes, pictured Akira and his teammates, and shoved away any relatively pleasant thought he had about them with the label of _‘idiot’_ instead.

“Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. . .”

Goro looked up at his barley cognizant reflection in the vodka bottle.

He stared with parted lips before pulling an eyelid down and sticking his tongue out. “You’re _annoying_ ,” he brought his hand down and leaned back, “It’s really not _that_ hard to just, not care, about anything.”

He paused and played with his hair, “Right?”

With a sigh he turned his body to lay flat on his couch and stared up to the ceiling. His vision was far from perfect, so static glitzed and hazed across the surface.

His legs and fingers began to grow numb, the world seemed so far now. Goro rolled onto his back and brought his hands to his eyes and rubbed them until his vision swam with black spots.

He groaned and sat back up. Having moved a bit too fast, his mind lagged behind him and he felt his body sway. Goro shuddered a breath as he waited for his mind and body to catch up to one another.

Together again, he paused, he really didn’t know what to do. 

Considering that he didn’t have much around his place, he was generally left with nothing more than his thoughts. And that definitely was not how he wanted to spend the night. He turned the music up before pouring another shot.

He bounced on the couch for a moment and let the drunken bliss of vertigo steal his vision before he grabbed the glass and took the shot.

He shook his head and felt it stutter - he should slow down now.

Goro then stood and walked around his apartment. He attempted to focus his mind on his surroundings, walking, and listening to the music - _anything_ but thinking. 

Looking out his window, he struggled to focus on the lingering rush-hour crowd. He grinned and leaned over his desk in front of the window, bracing himself with a hand to it.

“What would you all think if you saw me like this? Would you still want to kiss my shoes?” His voice came out relatively fine with a hint of poor speech. He kicked a leg of his desk before continuing his ramble, “Ugh, but you guys don’t like me right now do ya? Not wrong I guess - ‘s still annoying though.”

He spun to look back into his flat and was ravished in the feeling of his mind shifting drunkenly yet again, “Don’t worry everyone, I bear no “ill intent”,” he laughed and bent over. The laugh held no mirth, it was blanketed in the broken sound of a teenager well aware of the short and horrid life they damned theirself to.

A bit too loudly, Goro took in a deep breath before he sang in a pitch all wrong, “Toss your dirty shoes in my washing machine heart!” Swaying around the room, he let himself roll onto the couch - cackling a laugh.

Barley resembling coherent speech, Goro couldn’t stop laughing as he continued spouting lyrics, “I’m no - _not_ wearing my usual lipstick, _hah_ , I th-thought maybe we could kissss toooniiighttt,” he let his words slide about as they formed around his laughter.

After another large and slow breath, he pushed himself up as his brain twisted and turned his surroundings into something barely recognizable. “And to think you’ve never complimented _my_ makeup,” he pouted with a hand to his chest and stood, ”I spend - spent a lot of time on it I’ll have you know.” 

It was late, he was far from sober, and he had recalled purchasing eyeliner years ago - a new and unused felt-tip begging for use. He had bought it in hopes of making his eyes seem larger, he couldn’t figure it out so save his life though. Plus, it was much too noticeable for his tastes.

He fumbled for the light switch in his bathroom and ignored the fluorescent burn. He hadn’t any idea as to where he put it, or if he even kept it after all those years, “Akira. . . I can’t help but wonder if you think I - I’m pretty. . . Like you’re friends.” His socks slipped a little on the tile, and he let himself slide more than necessary before grabbing a hold of the sink.

He raised his head to the mirror, lips pursed as he looked at his reflection, “Do you have an idea?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

Goro kept his eyes set with a hostile flare as he slowly opened his medicine cabinet and his reflection fell out of view.

Inside, there wasn’t much besides basic beauty products and pain killers. He brushed it all aside in hopes of spotting the eyeliner. Alas, none was to be found, “Useless sober Goro. . .”  
Goro huffed and closed the cabinet.

Greeted again with an image of a harrowed teen, Goro paused, letting his thoughts shift and stir, before cloudy eyes mocked surprise.

“I didn’t expect you to come by - you miss me that much already?”

Silence.

“Awe, Akira, don’t look at me like that~ ‘kumura was horrid and I'd do it ag - again,” Goro leaned over his sink, “‘nd again,” forehead against the mirror, hazy maroon eyes melded into a remembrance of silver, “‘nd . . . again.”

“There, there’s so many worse things I’ve done, and will p-probably do. . . “ Goro’s eyes were wide, blank with the thought of a November to come. His hands shook, skin ashen pale, breath quick.

His vision melded into a sea of black as he let them unfocus, “Such a shame, a shame, a shame. . . _Haha_ , sucks that I won't falter.”

With vigor, he pushed away from the sink. The momentum made him nauseous, it led him to drop to a crouch, hoping that the stillness of his body would translate to his stomach. 

“I - _Akira_ \- I hope you’re okay with me calling you Akira - but you came at such a poor time; why couldn’t you stay away,” Voice but a whisper, Goro buried his face in his knees, attempting to control his shuddered breaths.

Goro whined, hand to his mouth, he stood and stumbled back to his living room. He blinked and noticed himself mumbling while pouring another drink. “Hah, sure, another - not enough,” there was a gap in his memory of when he sat down, he didn’t care to acknowledge it, “Not yet.”

A distant vibration then sounded; Goro hummed along with it as he leaned over in thought of what it was, “C’mon Goro, it’s your phone.” Goro’s mouth feigned shock while his eyes remained half-lidded and empty, “Yer, probably right. Where? Erm. . .” He looked around before pausing at another vibration, the hum had resounded behind him.

He placed his hands to the edge of the couch; it took him a couple attempts to stand. As he threw his body upright, his eyesight devolved into what looked and felt like TV static. He braced himself and laughed at the rush of blood.

Goro’s mind fumbled after he almost tripped back onto the couch. Though, he eventually made it to the kitchen. He spotted his phone and snatched it off the counter, “Who,” he fumbled while trying to input his passcode, “Oh?”

Goro turned his back to the counter and slid down, he blinked rapidly in hopes that his vision would refocus. 

Akira had texted about his calendar being freed up - wondering if Goro could spare some time to hangout some day that week. 

Goro banged his head to the cupboards behind him and let his spinning head shoot his comments on the matter of _why_ his schedule was suddenly free away.

Akira had also sent a message apologizing for earlier and asked if Goro was okay. He chose to ignore that one, “May be busy - ‘d probably make time for you though.” Goro stared at Akira’s first text, expecting his thoughts to translate to a coherent text. 

It did not.

So, Goro tapped the textbox and slowly strung some letters together. 

_“I’m”_

He hadn’t given what he’d reply a thought. He stared, hoping an idea would come to him, “Akira, what do I - I say? Damn if I want you to see me pathetic,” Goro’s speech hobbled together, most words lacked pauses in between. 

Shifting in his spot on the ground, he blinked a couple times, deleting the single word he typed and rambled, “Don’t know if I can look at ‘im, not soon, I think. . .”

_“Dont know if there avaiilable time, for me”_

The text seemed satisfactory to Goro’s addled mind as he placed the phone on the floor and let his body slide down till he too laid flat. He thought of how disappointed Akira would be.

“Annoying,” Goro scowled, “Leave me alone,” he was quiet - eyes glittering with an oncoming wetness.

“Akira?” Somber in tone and face pulled into a frown, Goro questioned himself.

“Yeah?”

“Coffee?”

“‘Course,” pleased with his own answer, he turned to his side and imagined the scenario.

Goro hummed in tune with the music while lost in thought. His apartment may have been vibrant with song, but his ears still found it in them to ring the mock of a gun.

Seemingly in response to Goro’s humming, his phone vibrated as well. Goro let out a breathy laugh as he picked it up to read Akira’s response: _“Akechi? I don’t want to sound rude but, are you really doing okay?”_

He made a noise of confusion, he couldn’t think of anything to be confused about.

Ah, he’d forgotten about Ryuji and the others.

He punched his free hand to the floor as punishment for recalling such a weak display. Of course his stupid, _stupid_ , brain found a way to ruin such a care-free night. He berated himself with thoughts of displeasure, typing out his annoyance.

_“???????????”_

_“Erm, Akechi, please tell me if you’re okay or not.”_

_“shut up”_

Oh.

Goro hadn’t meant to text that.

He sat up all too quickly and shook his head in hopes of counteracting the dizziness. Of course that didn’t work. He was able to make out the ellipses of Akira typing. Goro could barely comprehend what his thoughts were screaming.

_“No”_

_“im sory pleae akira- no i dint mean to”_

_“youre nit sut up i mean i dint nean to type that”_

He was typing much too fast, to the point when even his alcohol induced brain could tell he messed up.

_“Akechi.”_

Goro cringed and pressed his phone into his face, blue light seering past his closed eyes.

_“. . .”_

_“You’re definitely not sober - I can tell that much.”_

_“Can you please for once let me know what’s up? Please Akechi.”_

_“How much have you drunk? Have you eaten? Are you at home?”_

He felt his phone cease its humming for a moment. His heart was hammering. His mind stung - stung so _badly_. He prayed for his coherency to stray further. This was the last situation he desired to be in.

_“God Akechi please reply.”_

Goro felt numb before he opened his eyes and found himself on the couch again. He squinted and blinked.

He sat up carefully and looked around, his phone was left on the floor of the kitchen. He let a laugh out - oh for the rest of the night to be blacked out, it truly was the dream. The room had grown darker and his heart felt stiff in his chest.

Goro turned his body to stand up but stopped as his eyes widened and he felt nausea creep about his throat. He whined and back laid down, his face felt too warm. It would be so easy for him to lay there and never rise again.

So easy would it be to finish off the bottle and let whatever happens happen.

He let his eyes slide shut as a hand fell off the side of the couch.

His face grew warmer as time fogged around him. He could tell he blacked out for a moment or two as whatever was playing at the time had shuffled by long ago. And, whatever ringing was sounding again and again continued to nagg his brain.

_**Ringing?** _


	2. The Tenderness of a Stare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resurrected by a rival turned friend, Goro Akechi lets himself relax in the comforting presence of one (1) Akira Kurusu.

Goro’s eyes snapped open. 

It should have been off - but that was definitely his phone.

For a brief moment, he felt completely lucid.

The ringing continued and Goro’s body stayed taunt while it shot up. The momentum drove a hand to his mouth while he just barely registered the feeling of his body slipping sideways. Soon enough, he crashed to the floor and his body went completely lax for a couple beats.

The ringing seemed to pitch up amongst the music. His vision began to slowly bounce back and forth as the sound of his phone seemed to overlap itself. 

It wasn’t Shido but _lord_ did it feel like it was. His heart pounded and thoughts ran still, yet all too fast they banged across his skull with a sickening velocity. He felt too overwhelmed. As the seconds ticked by, he was sure his body would stop functioning completely, ceasing his existence along with his pain.

On the ground, Goro curled his limbs in on himself. He gripped his throat in hopes of stifling the nausea radiating from it. He alternated between holding his breath and sucking one in through his clenched teeth. 

He felt too hot - it was October, it shouldn’t be so damn _hot_. His mind began to haze in and out of focus, vision pulsating back and forth and forth and back and-  
It was nauseating. 

But god did the feeling elate him.

His nose twitched as a broken smile stumbled through the cracks. He let laughter bubble to his lips, sprawled amongst the floor. _“Finally,”_ he leered, voice stumbling and lined with mockery, “You’re suffering like you deserve.” he laughed out harder.

“Akir- Akira, will this let me atone? Body decomposing and thoughts to mush.”

“Never.”

“Quit your niceties, r-right now.”

. . .

“. . . Please, _please_ stop,” Goro quietly begged while his hands attempted to swaddle his quaking body. Nothing he said made sense, mind wholly incoherent. He’d had too much - he knew he would’ve ended up like this from the beginning.

 _ **Fuck**_ , Goro thought, but who gave a _**damn**_. Surely he didn’t.

He rolled over and let in a large breath, his breathing had become shallow and he found himself desperate for air. He punched the ground and hiccupped, before losing motion of his limbs. Goro found that his energy had been steadily sapped from him. He wanted nothing more than to sleep. 

But a part of him decided to begin panicking. Emotions haywire - confused where to land, much too volatile for such a venerable evening.

Who was it that called him? It wasn’t his ringtone, but what if he misheard. Oh god he was going to be sick-

Shallow breaths quickened, yet no more air than before was let in.

His mind couldn’t function, Goro’s eyes lost focus as his brain all but melted. Fading in and out of existence. Lost to purgatory’s grip, he let his body lay dead.

He didn’t care if he rotted away, yet he did. He wasn’t done here. But. . . But- 

But he could not keep his thoughts together. They slipped at the seams. Music flooded in and out. Was it actually playing?

_Who was he anymore?_

Bemoaning Akira’s name, he begged for mercy.

He was going to die gonna die gonna die _gonna die gonna die_ \- _Oh_. Oh no he was going to throw up throw - _no_ , no he’s up - tumbling down now, _hah_. He heard a bang, _bang_ , _**bang**_ \- why? 

Wait he was answering the door, saying hello? No, that wasn’t it, he was falling - he was gonna be sick.

Frantic, frantic speech and a frantic heart - at the toilet he felt horrid - but better.

Face hot, mind hot, shaking too cold - warm, nevermind that. 

Where? Where were his bangs? Being held back? Who? Oh, he was on the ground and dead. 

Incorrect, he was breathing, too shallow; needed to catch his breath. 

“Are you okay? Akechi?”

Why was there a voice? Was Goro rambling again? No, that was something he was sure of. He groaned and whined, eyes lost to static, _“Akechi?!”_

Sight dark - but his eyes were supposed to be open? His face was _smoldering_. Ah, why could he feel the haze of his vision. Why d-

. . .

He felt a hand massage his shoulder as a calming voice asked him: “Akechi are you awake - are you okay?” and under his breath, “Please tell me you’re okay.” The scent of coffee wafted to Goro. It was soothing, but it stirred about his queasy throat uncomfortably.

He peered at a blurred Akira, his vision was too hazy to focus on his shape, but he recognized him all the same. Noticing Goro’s half-lidded eyes, Akira’s grip on his shoulder softened.

“Akechi. . .“

Goro watched him carefully and pressed his lips together. Akira’s hair was roused and his eyes seemed tired. He noticed how his thoughts floated around words like “endearing” and “handsome”. In response to them, he scowled, and Akira sat back at the sight.

“Can you sit up?” Goro gave him a questioning look at his careful words, yet made no move to partake in answering. His mouth tasted terrible.

Akira moved to his side. Not hearing him confirm or deny, he lowered a hand under his shoulders. Both stiffened and maintained eye contact as Akira gently moved a hand under Goro’s shoulders and pushed him upward. No longer laying on the cool tile of his bathroom, Goro blinked and held his head as it glitched for the billionth time.

“Akira - why help after- '' Goro's raw and cracked voice stumbled past recognition towards the end. He cleared his throat before his voice faded in again, replying to himself, “‘Cause, deserved it. . .” He closed his eyes and swayed, “Maybe, maybe - probly? I dunno. . .”

“I - Huh?”

Goro blinked slowly - he hadn’t expected another voice. Oh yeah, he had forgotten about Akira.

“Huh?” He questioned in return.

“You were mumbling something.”

“Pay no - pay no mind.”

An unfocused haze melded into the sight of Akira’s face being pulled into concern.

His mind stung, after another slow blink, he found himself lying on the couch as Akira gently brushed hair from his eyes. Feather-light touches just barely grazed Goro’s cheek, he shuddered at the feeling.

Voice as soft as Goro’s mother, Akira asked him: “Had you eaten anything? Before you threw up?”

Goro looked upwards, thinking, he recalled going to the kitchen to eat but. . . “No, got distracted.”

Akira frowned.

“Is it okay if I make something for you?”

“‘m not gonna stop you.”

Akira gave Goro a smile, soft and sweet as honey. He lightly patted Goro’s arm before standing and walking behind him to the kitchen.

Goro listened to Akira rustle around. Why was he here? Goro never asked him to come by, nor did he remember ever telling Akira where he lived. Very slowly, Goro rose and turned to lean his chin on the backrest of the couch, watching as Akira rummaged around. 

“Kuru-Kurusu?” Goro bit his lip at how impaired his speech sounded.

He turned to look at Goro, closing a cupboard and leaning against the counters, “Hmm?”

Goro stared, practicing his words the best he could in the confines of his mind before speaking, “How did you find where I live?”

Akira tilted his head, smoothing a tentative hand over the back of his neck, “. . . You told me?”

Goro leaned forward in utter confusion, “When?”

Akira looked to the floor, spotted Goro’s phone, and picked it up before placing it on the counter next to him, “When we were texting earlier.” He looked back to the living room with his lower lip between his teeth.

Goro turned away, towards the TV, and brought his legs up to hug them, “Don’t remember. . .” he replied under his breath. He felt significantly less drunk than before, but the feeling was very much still present.

He could hear Akira sigh. It wasn’t one of aggression or bewilderment - it was more tired than anything, “No worries, I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Goro didn’t reply.

Akira being there, in Goro’s apartment, was a strange occurrence. At the moment, he couldn't remember the last time anyone had been over. He himself liked to spend as little time there as possible.

Cupboards continued to be opened and closed softly throughout the kitchen.

He leaned back with a noise of displeasure and fisted his hair. _Why is Akira here? How did this happen?_ The television had gone to sleep, although music continued, it had been a fair bit.

Akira turned his kitchen lights on, so through the TV screen he watched himself and Akira. This quickly morphed into a staring contest between him and his reflection as Akira paced about the kitchen, hands on his hips.

“Akechi?”

Goro jumped before humming in response as he turned the TV down.

“Why do you only own a box of crackers?”

Goro shrugged and replied in a whispered tone, “I forget. . . to get more.”

He watched Akira turn to him through the black screen, “Let me know if you ever want me to drop by and make you something, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Goro heard Akira walk over to him. He tapped Goro’s shoulder and handed him the box, “Here, it should help settle your stomach - I’m sure it’ll thank you,” he gave Goro a shy half smile.

He also placed a fresh glass of water on the coffee table before taking it back and deciding to hold it and wait before he inquired about it to Goro. Both Goro and Akira were sure he would’ve gone crashing down if he leaned that far forward. Looking at the coffee table, Goro noticed the half empty bottle of vodka and his mouthwash, he chose not to question it.

Box in his hands, Goro looked down and took one out. His eyes twitched as he chewed and swallowed. He chewed on another cracker and shook his head, his head hadn’t been jumbling around as much, and he found himself missing the feeling.

“Hopefully it’ll help. . . soon. . .” Akira's voice died out as he watched Goro mumble something incoherent. During that moment, Goro’s mind flipped and relapsed through recent memories, forgetting what had been currently happening with a wave of dizziness. He then leaned forward to grab the bottle. In response, Akira placed a hand on Goro’s chest and gently nudged him back. 

They looked over at each other. Dull eyes lit up a little at the concern the others bared. Goro’s face dropped into that of vast displeasure and embarrassment, directed at no one but himself. 

He sat back, deep into the couch, “Sorry. . .”

“Akechi, you don’t have to apologize.”

Goro didn’t reply.

Akira glanced at the coffee table and picked up the mouthwash. Looking at Goro, he changed the subject, “Now or later?”

Goro paused and contemplated, “. . . Later.”

“I had found it after you passed out.”

Goro gave him a confused look, “Okay?” He wasn’t sure why Akira thought the clarification was necessary. Though, perhaps he came off a tad too hostile.

Akira flushed and looked away, putting the mouthwash down before sitting back with his hands under his legs.

They sat in silence for a while, Akira looked forward with an unreadable face as Goro pretended to not look over at him every other minute while he ate his crackers. He paused and glanced at the box, then back at Akira. Goro swallowed before poking Akira’s arm. He seemed to startle and Goro pulled his hand back with wide eyes. Akira tilted his head and Goro looked back down.

He let the soft music calm his heart as it leapt against his ribcage and held the box out to Akira, “W-Would you like to have - I mean - would you like any?” Goro wrapped a finger around his hair and pulled hard as he fumbled his foolish sentence.

Akira looked astonished when Goro looked up. Goro squinted his eyes and pouted, “You can say no.”

“Oh - I mean, sure,” Akira took out a cracker while readjusting his glasses.

Goro stared intently. Rubbing a hand to his cheek, he looked down at it before his eyebrows pulled in together and chest warmed. His gaze set itself on Akira again, although, this time his eyes wavered with a slight hint of anxiety.

“Thank you,” Akira shrunk under his unwavering stare. He looked at the glass still in his hand and sent a non-verbal question about it to Goro.

Goro took it after placing the cracker box next to him and continued to stare. His eyes narrowed further as he sipped on the water and leaned in a little. Akira passed him the mouthwash.

Goro’s eyes crossed slightly to look down at it, his attention shot back to Akira, nose scrunching a little. Akira realized that the mouthwash wasn’t what he desired, but Goro accepted it anyways.

Akira poured a bit of it into its cap before passing it to the other. Goro cringed at the alcoholic taste, the lingering memory of his recent rendezvous with his toilet climbed up his throat as he grimaced. He swished the liquid and paused, turning to send a deadpan stare at Akira.

“I-Is there something else?”

He stared longer, it steadily grew more blank, cheeks puffed slightly.

Akira thought for a moment before facepalming and getting up to find a bowl. Having already rummaged through Goro’s cupboards, he quickly found one and handed it to Goro for him to spit in. After, he placed it in the kitchen sink.

They let another lull go by before his eyes widened in remembrance and Goro turned to Akira, one uncoordinated hand raising up before he paused. His eyes grew wide with intent as he brought a wrist to rub across his tired eyes.

Akira’s mouth parted in a silent question, Goro noticed his anxiety rise at Goro staring at him yet again.

“I’m going to-” Goro mumbled before shaking his head, “ _May I_ , take your glasses off.”

Goro’s hand stayed up, waiting for the go ahead. Other hand clenching the glass in a tight grip.

Akira’s eyes felt pressured to stay locked with Goro’s as he spoke uncertainty, “May I ask why?”

“Th-They’re fake - you don’t need to hide.”

“I-” Akira was quite clearly at a loss for words. Goro pouted, dissatisfaction clear, and dropped his hand before sinking back into the couch. Akira watched as Goro crossed his arms high on his chest and placed that cup precariously balanced between his arms and chin, while he slouched heavily into his seat.

With a huff, Goro elaborated under his breath, “‘m not wearing makeup - ‘s weird being exposed. . . I don’t like being the only one.”

Beside him, Goro could hear a quiet, “Oh,” from Akira.

They were both grateful for the music keeping the silence from being _too_ awkward.

Quiet - _a whisper_ \- one Goro’s addled brain couldn’t pick up came from his left. Their eyes locked, Akira looked away and gently untangled one of Goro’s arms. He shook at the contact, but denied his thoughts of pulling away. So _tender_ , Akira was too gentle with Goro. . .

Akira raised Goro’s arm and locked eyes again, “It’s okay, you can.”

Goro’s eyes widened a fraction.

He let his face soften while he moved the cup between the crackers and his thigh while he sat up. He then raised his other hand to slowly inch Akira’s glasses off. His fingers brushed Akira’s cheeks, he could feel their warmth they held.

Their faces were close, Goro wasn’t sure how he felt about it, though he did notice a pleasant feeling flutter about his chest. All Akira did was watch Goro’s hands from the corner of his vision and occasionally glance back to Goro.

Goro’s eyes twitched. His adoration, one he consistently feigned with jealousy, had been overturned by his intoxication. . . and it caught him by the throat.

He brought the glasses to his chest, looked down at them, and then spoke, “See, doesn’t that feel better?”

Akira fluttered his eyelashes before replying with a sweet grin, “I had no doubts to begin with.” He brushed his bangs back and continued as they fell back down, “I was just, surprised, that you were concerned about. . . you know.”

“‘You know’?” Goro repeated the statement as a question - not sure if his confusion was brought upon by his lagging brain or not.

“Oh, I mean, how you were worried about me seeing you without makeup.”

Goro bit the inside of his cheeks and looked away, passively handing Akira his glasses back. Tone low, Goro spoke, “You haven’t seen me like this - it’s unsightly.”

“I - Huh? Akechi, I don’t know how to tell you this. But I kinda had a feeling you weren't _that_ preppy outside of the spotlight.”

Goro crossed his arms, “Well you’d be tru - _right_. If I was more sober. . . I wouldn’t let you see me like. . . _this_.” He gestured a hand around.

Akira let out a low laugh, “Yeah probably - but do you feel any better? Has your nausea settled?”

He sat straight to try and garner how intact he felt. Uncrossing his arms, Goro attempted to push himself off the couch but came tumbling back down rather quickly. His vision wavered back and forth as the nauseating feeling of earlier resumed its desire to claw at his throat. Goro sighed, “Nope. . . Overdid it. . .”

“It happens,” Akira had some leftover concern dotting his eyes from Goro’s attempt to stand, but relaxed at Goro’s honesty. 

“Akechi, do you mind if I ask you why you got so drunk?”

“No,” He picked the cup back up and sipped more water.

“Okay. . . It - It didn’t have to do with Ryuji, right? He didn’t know, and he apologized like a madman after you left.”

“No.”

“Well, I guess that’s good. . . Although, Akechi, I - I know you might not want to talk about it. But we - erm - _I_ could see how it upset you. . . It’s okay to acknowledge being upset.”

“. . . Sure. . . But it - it was many things,” He settled his eyes into the warmth of Akira’s, he contemplated what to say next, “That led to this, I mean.”

“Do you want to talk about it? If I could help in any way, I’d like to.”

Goro whined quietly and put his head in his hands, he spoke, albeit barely above a whisper, “I don’t _know_.”

“That’s okay. I just want you to know that I’m here for you.”

Sucking in a breath, Goro put his now empty cup back beside him, brought his legs up, and pressed his eyes into his knees. He could feel them wavering and wanted to dry them as soon as possible. He could feel Akira shift on the couch, Goro was sure he was contemplating what to do. But he was thankful Akira didn’t comment on his shuddered breaths and light hiccups.

Goro wrapped his arms around himself much too tightly to be comforting. He was still too inebriated to actually care, but his consciousness dragged him by the hair for being so _weak_.

His breathing hitched at the thought.

Akira cleared his throat, it sounded uncertain. Goro peaked over, “I - I. . .” Akira was blushing profusely, “I don’t know if this'll make you feel any better, but. . .” Goro couldn’t hear what he said, Akira had covered his mouth and looked away, beginning to regret ever speaking up.

Goro hummed a noise inquiring about clarification.

Akira hummed back in a higher tone than usual, cheeks coloured a deep red and a distressed look to his eyes.

He took a moment to slow his breathing before letting his thoughts out, “I think your freckles are cute. . . You don’t need to be worried about makeup around me unless you want to wear it.” He looked away quickly, “I don’t think I could ever find you ‘unsightly’, as you put it. . .”

Goro snapped his head away while his face reddened as well. It was definitely an. . . _odd_ take on the idea of comforting a person. But it definitely did it’s job; in some way or another at least. He couldn’t decide how to reply, so he settled for a nodd, unsure if Akira saw it or not.

Yet again, they let the music fill the silence.

Goro could hear Akira quietly say something to himself, a pep talk of sorts he presumed, before he spoke up, “Hoo boy, okay, how are you feeling? Mentally I mean.”

Not all that well, was what Goro thought. His eyes still stung with unshed tears, though his mind felt lighter from Akira’s compliment. 

“Not that much better.”

The back of his mind, sober Goro, begged him to lie and usher Akira out. But, he couldn’t help it - Akira made him feel comfortable, respected his boundaries yet repeatedly checked in on how he felt. It was. . . _nice_ , to be doted on a little.

“I didn’t really expect you to be, thank you for letting me in.”

Goro paused.

“How did you get in - here?” That whole portion of the night was particularly addled, he had no recollection of what actually occurred.

“Oh - I mean, you technically answered the door. But you immediately fell over and seemed sick, so I brought you over to the bathroom?”

It wasn’t a question, but Akira’s voice raised in uncertainty.

“. . . I don’t really like how I can’t remember that. . . But honestly I‘m still a tad too drunk to care.”

They let the current song switch to the next before their conversation continued, “Do,” Akira paused and thought, “Do you think sad music is good for right now?”

Goro moved his legs to be beside him on the couch, “I dunno, it's what I like.”

“Don’t get me wrong - I like it, you have great taste. But after earlier. . .”

Goro mumbled and cleared his throat, “I. . . Try to not think about it. What Sakamoto said, I don’t really think about it. . . I haven’t thought of her since I talked to you ‘bout it.” Goro picked the cracker box up again and ate one quietly. After he swallowed, he added in, “And before that. . . I can’t remember.”

“It’s understandable, but please don’t bottle things up. I know you know it’s not healthy. . .”

Goro rubbed viciously at his eyes as a laugh scratched his throat. His speech was carried by a broken cackle, “Oh Akira, believe me when - when I say that I do _negative_ things that are _healthy_.”

Goro’s thoughts began to bounce around viciously. He imagined how the night would’ve gone if he never drank, had drunk more, if he had hit his head when he fell; there were many scenarios that Goro saw as funny, some had him biting hard into his lips.

As he continued to laugh, Akira stared at him, his expression had grown conflicted.

This went on for a couple minutes.

Letting in an uneasy breath, Goro attempted to calm his laughter. His grin was wide and eyes blurred. All that rang through his skull was laughter at himself. He sat back with a low chuckle and turned to Akira, the smile he wore twitched at Akira’s stare.

He turned forward and pouted, staring at the vodka bottle still sitting on the table. He let his eyes slide back to Akira. He pointed at the bottle before raising his pointed finger up - a question of “one more”.

Sober Goro continued to climb his way up, claws deep in his throat. 

He didn’t want this night to be lost to blacked out, any more - yet he also didn’t want to snap out of his daze and ruin it himself. He didn’t care if the taste would slay his delicate throat, he just wished for more time like this.

Akira set his attention on the bottle and looked at Goro through the corner of his eyes. He closed his eyes and shook his head, “You still haven’t eaten much, considering how much you drank. Even though you threw up - no, considering that you did, it probably wouldn’t be good.”

Goro leaned back and nodded, “Fair. . .”

They let another awkward lull pass.

To think that he thought he was tired earlier. He wanted to rest, but. . . He found Akira’s comfort worth staying up for.

Akira was unbelievably comforting, had this occurred on another day, Goro was sure he’d find some way to call it pity.

Goro swallowed.

He was tempted to open up more, Akira seemed infinitely interested in what made Goro tick. What sent him to drinking, why he was so apprehensive to open up, and so on.

Goro bushed hair behind his ear.

He had an opportunity to dwell a little more into a past long forgotten, to share it with Akira and see what he had to say.

Goro stood. He swayed for a moment as his head caught up with him.

“Akechi?”

“Have - I have an idea.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

He paused, now standing behind the couch, “I think I’ll be fine.” Akira nodded.

Goro walked toward his bedroom and paused as his body flushed and stomach rolled. He made it in fairly good time, though he felt increasingly more unwell the longer he moved around. Slowly, he moved down to look under the bed. Tucked in the back was a small cardboard box, one that hadn’t been touched since it was placed there when he first moved in years ago.

The last time he looked inside must’ve been when he compiled everything after the passing of his mother.

He took a deep breath before laying flat to reach for it. Stretching under the bed, he eventually closed his eyes as his throbbing vision made his body grow hot and nausea raised. But nevertheless he willed himself to grab a hold of it and pull it out. 

As he sat up, he rested his head on his bed, keeping his eyes closed to fend off his wavering vision and pounding heart. After a minute or so went by and his body cooled down, he stood, box in hand, and went back to the couch. 

Akira was fidgeting in his spot, and when Goro appeared beside him, Akira watched the box as Goro sat.

“I - I haven’t looked at this in a long time. . .”

Akira looked up to him, a question of: “What is it?” on his lips.

“I don’t have a lot of things ‘round my apartment. I’ve kept some old things in here.”

Goro opened the box. It was relatively empty, only housing a button, letter, photo, and roll of film. Goro was sure Akira noticed the faint reddish-brown smear on the letter. He was grateful yet again that Akira didn’t comment on how Goro’s hand shook as he lifted the photo and grazed the letter.

He turned the photo around and felt his shoulders drop. 

It was a simple timed photo of Goro and his mom. In it, she pinched his cheek and smiled as she hugged her grinning son. Goro in the photo looked elated as he clung to the arm his mom had around him. 

The thought of how long it had probably been since Goro was that overjoyed crossed his mind. He lowered his gaze and begged the thought to leave. Goro held a painfully blank stare directed at the photo.

Goro’s thoughts felt trapped - glossy and too slippery for him to grasp. He couldn’t pinpoint any one feeling he had directed to the photo. His body began to quiver.

Akira perked up beside Goro, desperate to avert his attention, “Akechi, may I see the photo?” Goro didn’t look at Akira, but nonetheless he nodded and let Akira take the photo out of his hand without any protest.

“She was beautiful.”

Goro took a deep and wavering breath, “Please don’t flirt with my mom.”

“Hah, no I mean, you two look a lot alike.

Goro stiffened. He bit his tongue at the thought of telling Akira how _relieved_ that made him feel. How paranoid he felt at the idea of himself barring any resemblance to his father. How he prayed that his mother never felt ashamed with a remembrance of _him_ being stuck on Goro.

“Thank you.”

Akira let his voice soften, “I can tell that you cared about her a lot.”

Goro pulled his arms around him, “Y-Yeah,” his voice cracked a little, “I did. . .”

“Past tense?”

“. . .”

He looked to Akira, eyes fighting not to pool over with tears, mouth struggling to not set itself into a deep frown. His voice was quiet and high, “No, p-present too. It just makes me too sad. . . Kurusu, I - I _hate_ feeling sad. ‘f you couldn’t tell. . .” He shuddered in a breath and brought a hand to his eyes, “Fuck you,” there was no punch to the swear, only defeat.

“Sh-e didn’t have - have the energy to take care of us. I understand how she feel - felt.”

Another, deeper, breath racked his chest.

“I wish I could’ve done something - _anything_ , anything to have had her with me.” Goro lowered his head and wheezed, “But _no_. We had to been - be been, _have been_ looked down on. . . Her and her d-damned bastard of a kid.”

“No - No one _cared_ ,” he sucked in a breath, muttering “no one” over and over. Akira’s frowned, eyes crinkled in sympathy. “I-“ Goro’s breathing quickened - borderline hyperventilation, “I couldn’t even re-remember her face before I pulled that photo out. It’s been _years_ Kurusu, even I grew to - to forget - to _want_ to no longer care.”

Akira moved to the floor and kneeled in front of him, “Akechi, please look at me.” Goro peaked through his shaking hands; just barely enough to see. 

“I know you may not accept it - may think that for whatever reason that I’m joking,” he placed a careful hand on his knee, Goro fought the desire to tense at the touch. “But I care about you - I want to see you well. . .”

He paused. Akira knew there was more to Goro, much more than he had ever let on. But he couldn’t shake the care he felt for the strange and confusing relationship they had been developing to save his life.

“Goro, you’re not at fault for wanting to forget your pain.”

Goro’s eyes widened in some sad state of shock as they filled with more tears. He looked down, and brought his hands away from his face. Blinking rapidly at the use of his given name and the unadulterated tenderness that was Akira. He took a couple deep breaths before raising his arms a little. Though, he refused eye contact with a stubborn pout. 

Akira paused, trying to figure out what Goro wanted, before, on a whim, an idea struck him.

Raising his arms as well, Akira leaned forward and wrapped them around Goro. Goro stiffened against Akira before shoving his head into the crook of his neck and clenching his hands into the back of Akira’s shirt.

As they hugged, Akira brought a hand to Goro’s head and ran his fingers through his hair with gentle touches - as if Goro could break at any moment. Goro _melted_ at the feeling and almost immediately felt his body lose a bit of tension. Akira was good at this.

Part of him told him it was much more than he deserved, he agreed and couldn’t help but wonder. . .

“Ak - Kurusu, are you real?”

“. . . What? What do you mean Akechi?” Akira’s tone was tender and quiet, urging Goro to continue.

“I mean, are you here, like actually _here_ with me.”

“I still don’t-”

Goro gripped him tighter. He didn’t have it in him to elaborate. Akira didn’t push for an answer during Goro’s silence.

“I promise, Akechi, that I’m here for you,” He strengthened his hold, a desperate attempt to reassure Goro not only through words, but actions as well, “I’m here.”

Goro hummed lowly, pressing his head further into Akira. Akira chuckled lightly in response. That evening had shot around with its ups and downs, but finally, it had settled.

“Kurusu, thank you.”

“No problem at all, Akechi.”

They spent another bit of silence enjoying each others’ hug before Akira spoke up again, “Is there anything else I can do for you? Anything you want me to pick up or do?”

Goro shifted and thought, “Perhaps? Not sure.” Goro hummed in thought, before letting his eyes slide closed. He cleared his throat slightly and whispered, “This. . . This is all I really want.” It was far from the night he anticipated. Far from the night he deserved. But he was. . . grateful. 

Akira was warm, pleasantly so, unlike how he felt earlier. Everything felt perfect, it all fit and Goro was _content_. At some point, his sane side dwindled down, giving up on restraining his desires. Goro reminded himself of how he mentioned a “cheat day” earlier.

Recalling even further back, Goro found himself thankful for Ryuji’s comment, and everything leading to this very. . . everything that. . . happened.

He closed his eyes tighter. He didn’t regret it - was far from the thought. But _god_ did he hope Haru wouldn’t see it. He had nearly destroyed his hand, punching it through his mirror, the moment he learned that Futaba had witnessed her mother -

He never wished for anyone to witness what he had all those years ago. Yet here he was.

He clenched his teeth and scratched at his arm, reprimanding himself.

“Are you okay?”

Goro forced himself to feign innocence and shot his eyes open as he mumbled, “Yes.”

He remembered how Haru and Futaba smiled around Akira. He felt selfish for having Akira at his place for so long. He let go of Akira and sat straight. He turned his eyes away in hopes of ignoring the hint of dejection that shot through Akira’s gaze. _So much for fending my sobriety off_ , he thought

“I’m quite tired.”

“Yeah, I guess it is pretty late now.”

“Seems that way. . .” He bit the side of his cheek and turned to watch Akira, Goro moved to sit crossed legged on the couch. Akira tilted his head and sat where he was earlier. Goro looked off to the side and back to Akira, “It’s okay if you want to leave now.”

Akira opened his mouth to retort, but Goro cut him off, an excuse prepped, “I don’t want you to have to wander around too late. I’m feeling better, my mind is much less. . . hazy.”

Akira ran a hand through the back of his hair, “Are you _sure?_ I’m sure I could stay the night, I don’t think S-”

Goro interrupted again, still a long sleep away from total clarity, Goro had gained a better grasp on his thoughts, “I’m sure Morgana would prefer you home than with me,” although it wasn’t perfect.

Akira stared intently, “Morgana? I was gonna say that Sojiro wouldn’t mind. . .” His tone was weary and his hands became weaved together. Goro blinked.

“I. . . Y-You’ve mentioned how your cat can get rowdy. . .”

Akira relaxed a tad, but Goro could pick up on his lingering hesitance, “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He shook his head and chuckled passively.

They avoided eye contact as both decided where to take the conversation next.

Akira pulled his phone out to check the time and let his eyes widen, “If you’re curious, it’s close to 10:30pm.”

Goro wasn’t surprised, time might have sped by for him but he could tell that it had been a while.

“I just want to make sure,” Akira looked to Goro, “Is there anything more that you want to talk about or need me to do? Before I leave, I mean.”

He paused and pretended as if he was thinking. In actuality he was just buying a little more time to hold Akira’s gun-metal gaze, “I don’t believe so.”

Akira stood with a quiet: “Okay.”

Goro stood as well, ignoring Akira’s startled voice, “Y-You don’t have to show me out.”

“It’s no problem,” he wavered and smirked at Akira, “It’s the least I can do.” Though his smirk shook as his throat yet again became a slave to carelessly forgotten nausea. Goro swallowed and maintained his composure.

Before continuing toward the door, Akira stopped to look down at the memory box again, Goro gave him a confused stare.

He looked back up to Goro, “I was wondering. . . Do - do you want to develop that film? If you want to remember what’s on it, “ Goro looked at him blankly, “If you don’t want to go alone, I could go with you. . .”

Goro wrapped his arms around himself, the nausea grew.

“I’m not. . . sure. Perhaps, although you would have to ask me again come the morning. Sober me is bound to be. . . _displeased_ with tonight.”

Akira smiled, “No worries.” He looked to Goro with a determined stare, “I’ll ask you again in a bit.”

Goro gave him a slight smile in return.

They walked to the door, and after Goro opened it, he leaned heavily against its length. Akira could see the alcohol-induced flush to his cheeks return, “Um, before I go, remember to drink lots of water and maybe finish off the crackers before heading to bed?”

Goro chucked and puffed his cheeks, “As you wish.”

They both let out a light laugh.

Akira sighed with fondness before looking back to Goro, debating what to say. Goro could see the answer in how his hands had yet to find their way into his pockets. He shook his head playfully, “I presume you want one last hug? A ‘make it home safe’ hug, we could call it.”

Akira’s eyes widened as Goro took the opportunity to wrap his arms around him one last time. He placed a hand into Akira’s dark hair as his gaze saddened. He realized the low probability of him receiving care like this again. After another beat, he let Akira go; hands lingering on his arms.

“I’ll see you around, Kurusu.”

“You too, Akechi,” Akira gave him a bright smile and fluffed Goro’s hair. Goro furrowed his eyebrows and stuck his tongue out.

Akira turned to leave, and Goro whispered another: “Thank you,” before he closed the door and slid down it. He wasn’t sure if Akira heard his thanks, but he had a feeling he knew how thankful he was no matter what.

Goro lightly banged his head back against the door and let the queasiness wash over him for a moment.

“You’re so stupid,” He spoke to himself, gaze to the ceiling and a fond smile across his lips. He wasn’t positive if it was directed at Akira or his drunken self, but all in all, he felt calm.

Placing his feet under himself, Goro stood and wavered to pick up the stray box of crackers and his glass of water. He placed them in the kitchen before retrieving the mouthwash and brushing his teeth again in the bathroom.

Back in the kitchen, Goro refilled his glass with water before downing it. He filled it up again and headed for his bedroom.

The room was cold as he stumbled under the covers and snacked absent-mindedly on the crackers. He felt cozy under his blankets, eyes drooping at the comfort they brought. The next couple minutes felt blurred while he shuffled to lay down, cracker box to his chest, as he dozed off. During his last moments of wakefulness, he tried to recall every word Akira spoke to him.

Goro awoke again hours later, confused and groaning at his stuffed up head.

He shoved his face deep into his pillow. Chest pressed into his bed, he felt cardboard stab into his turbulent stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a crushed cracker box. He squinted at it for a minute or so before recalling how he ate them in his bed. 

He hit the box to his head before throwing it to his bedroom floor.

A lot of the night was a haze, but he definitely remembered the majority of it. His face rose in temperature, making his body feel even worse. Groaning into his pillow, Goro sat up and covered his eyes. His fingers dug into his forehead while he willed his nausea down to a bearable level.

Slowly, he swung his legs off his bed and headed for the bathroom.

On the way, he spotted the leftover vodka bottle, memory box, and Akira’s forgotten glasses. Akira must have been too preoccupied, Goro recalled, if he forgot something as crucial to him as his glasses. He crossed his arms and continued on after he turned his kitchen light off and closed his curtains.

After partaking in his morning routine, feeling grateful that he at least half did his night one before drinking. Goro avoided his gaze, mind wild with embarrassment. 

He took a couple painkillers before stepping into a cold shower.

The shower helped wake him up, and made him feel less disgusting after such a long night. He dragged his feet back to his room and got changed into a different set of lounge wear. 

He moved back to the kitchen to retrieve his long forgotten phone. The light from it seared his eyes and increased the pain level of his oncoming headache. After unlocking it, he saw that he had a couple new emails and reminders - nothing too substantial though. He also realized that it was one in the afternoon on Sunday, and felt eternally thankful he didn’t accidentally sleep through a work or school day.

Moreover, he noticed a new message from the one and only Akira, it had been sent a couple hours ago. Akira had texted him, asking how he was doing.

He replied with an uncharacteristic: “:/”, before scrolling up to read the messages that had left Akira feeling inclined to go over. He glared at the scrambled texts he had sent Akira. Goro also noticed that at some point that he had no recollection of, he had turned on his ringer - apparently awaiting a call from Akira.

It took more willpower than he currently had to resist the urge to throw his phone. But Akira’s foolish icon and caring messages kept him from doing so. Too tired to put up a further fight, he settled for placing it face down on his counter harshly.

He crossed his arms and kicked his lower cupboards before moving to sit on his living room couch. The couch still smelt of Leblanc coffee.

Sat down, he crossed his legs and glared at everything still sat on the table.

Goro lived his life desperate to harbour no regrets. He hadn’t any yet, more or less. Though it was more so a matter of: _“How deeply can I stifle my emotions?”_ He’d gone through this thought process before - it was nothing more than a nuisance. 

And he always came to the same begrudging decision in the end; when Akira was involved at least.

Goro massaged his aching throat before reaching into the box and carefully picking out the film. He looked at it blankly. He traced his fingers along its edges, racking his aching mind for some memory regarding its contents.

He moved it down and, with his other hand, grabbed Akira’s glasses. He placed them on and scrunched his nose, unused to the weight of them.

He pushed them up and went to retrieve his phone. Even greeted with his reflection through his phone screen, Goro didn’t care to hide his slight smile.

A new message popped up, Akira sent him a photo of, presumably, coffee in a thermos. Goro smirked, “Dumbass,” he said tenderly as he sent a confirmation text and laid down. He felt terrible physically, so why let himself feel like shit mentally too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES IM DONE! Wow my first multi-chapter fic that was originally a one shot - I quite enjoy it.
> 
> Trying to figure out how to write all the drunk stuff was actually so fun. I just tried to remember what I could of the last time I blacked out, it was a very interesting night. Also I tend to pretend to talk to my friends about things a lot and Goro gave me the vibe that he would talk aloud since he likes to ramble. Moreover, ofc it had to get a bit out of hand when he was smashed, considering when I last was I started talking to a candle flame in hopes it would tell me if the power would come back soon.
> 
> Also I love all the tender stuff I wrote with Goro and Akira, I just want them to be happy iahfrueisfhdujfkdfhjkdfh why Goro gotta be so complicated asoifthsoighufgdg
> 
> But yeah! This was super fun to write and I hope you enjoyed it! Maybe one day I'll write a follow up, but for now I got other stuff I'm writing :P Tho everything shuake related I write is pretty much in the same "universe" I guess.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Comments are welcomed ofc!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this first chapter! This was supposed to be a one shot, but it became much too long and I decided that it would be easier to read in two parts. DW the second part will be up soon - I just have to reread and tweak it for the billionth time and we'll be good.
> 
> But yeah, I've had this idea for a while and thought fuck it, lets write it. 
> 
> I was originally writing something else, a third semester karaoke fic if you are curious, but then I came up with some lines for this one and became enthralled! After this one (and perhaps another much shorter one this month??) I will have the karaoke one done. It's super fun but, ofc, with that token Goro angst during the beginning. Also holy hell did it take me a while to get this done, its been so long since my first fic r i p - but I compulsively decided to max out the thieves den so I did that ahhaha.
> 
> I'm quite content with this first chapter and hope the ending doesn't leave you _too_ hanging until the second chapter is up. But I found that it would be, more or less, the best place to break the fic in half.
> 
> Also!! I am curious as to if you know the two songs I referenced, one is like super obvious, while the other not so much. I have a whole playlist of songs that make me think of Goro and Akira so I kinda just vibed to that while writing and was like "you know what? Goro would vibe to this while drunk" so that's what I did.
> 
> If you're curious about future fanfics or what I'm up to you can follow me on twitter @meltheknee
> 
> It's p much just Persona stuff, and I am planning on drawing more so there will be that!
> 
> Comments are welcomed, of course, and I hope you have a wonderful day!! Thank you for reading!!!


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